


Grape Soda

by BigGhost



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Basically ardyn pretends to be noct to fuck with him, Gen, M/M, Promptis if you squint, Psychological Torture, Torture, but its there if u want it to be, idk something i was dicking around with, its not super obvious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-12
Updated: 2017-10-12
Packaged: 2019-01-16 08:37:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12339225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BigGhost/pseuds/BigGhost
Summary: Noctis saved him from that cage 3 goddamned times.





	Grape Soda

Noctis saved him from that goddamned cage three times.  
  


The first time was in a dream, after he had woken up and found himself strapped to a metal cross, surrounded by rusted, bloody tools at the end of a dark hallway.  He’d felt Noctis pull him down from his position, and the relief from the freedom sent chills through his skin, and the warmth from Noctis’ body had felt so good.

  
He’d felt it, he knew he did.

  
When he woke, just as Noctis had pulled him out of the cell, he found himself locked up again.  He lolled his head to one side, groggy from sleep, and pulled at his restraints.  When they didn’t give, he pulled harder, whimpering as he realized that Noctis had never been there.  His brow furrowed and he bit his lip.  Tears burned his eyes and he shuddered a breath.  His head rolled to lean back against the cold metal of the slab.  He pressed the back of his head into it, hitting his skull against the unforgiving metal a couple of times with soft thuds.

  
Taking a breath, he pulled at both his arms until the muscles bulged and hurt.  His hands pulled at the mouth of the cuffs.  He let out a guttural cry, which slowly morphed into a sob, as he pulled on them as hard as his tired arms would allow.  He felt the skin of his wrist tear at the force.

  
He didn’t expect to be able to get out that way, but his muscles tingled from the forced standing position and begged him to move them.  He released his pull with a sob and let his tears fall.  He just wanted to go home.  He wanted to be with his friends.  Even if they end up not wanting him, after they find out about who he really is, he wanted to see them again; to be out of this hell.

 

* * *

  
  


The second time was mid-beating.  
  


Ardyn had spoken so few times while Prompto was conscious that he could count the times with one hand.  Of course Ardyn was behind this; he always was.

  
When he’d entered Gralea, just on the outskirts, he’d been ambushed by daemons and a handful of imperial troops.  While not a big group, it was hard to take them down on his own.  He could say with pride, though, that he went down with a fight, if downing four men and needing another four to wrangle him was evidence enough.

  
Prompto concluded that Ardyn had tracked him to Gralea after he’d taken out the magitek facility and Immortalis.  Kind of hard to miss the giant, metal death worm and the snowmobile tracks, he supposed.

  
Since arriving, Ardyn would occasionally come in to “play” with him.  That’s what he called it.  “Playing” consisted of simply beating the shit out of him until it got boring.

  
Sometimes he used tools; sometimes he used the classic fists.  His favorites left the darkest marks.  The stench of the burning skin on his neck, where Ardyn had had fun with an electric collar, was ignorable now.  Still stung like a bitch when he moved, though.  He liked to whisper in his ear about how his friends were thankful that he was gone, too.

  
This session, apparently, was Ardyn’s time off.  He sent a trooper in his place, and for the most part, Prompto preferred this.  It didn’t speak to him and didn’t get nearly as creative.  Ripping out his nails hurt, yes, but it didn’t put them in salt water, like Ardyn probably would have done.

  
Somewhere between the first and middle finger of the second hand, the cell door opened with a soft whistle, and the magitek trooper shrieked as it was torn apart by a very familiar sword.

  
Through his blurry vision, Prompto could just barely make out the dark figure of Noctis as he yanked the lever above Prompto’s shoulder.

  
Suddenly he was dropped from the cross like a doll.  Noctis caught him before he hit the ground, and knelt in a low position with Prompto in his lap.  Prompto heard him talking, his voice, but the ringing in his ear made it hard to make out the words.

  
He pulled at the prince until he leaned down and hugged him, gathering him up and holding him tightly.  Noctis, shaking and probably high on adrenaline, rocked their bodies softly.  His nose and cheek squished against Prompto’s hair.

  
“Are you okay?  Oh Six, Prom, your hands!” Noctis cried as he pulled away, taking Prompto’s bleeding hands into his while trying to be as gentle as he could.  Prompto forced out a chuckle.  They ached, and his friend handling them hurt like hell, but he appreciated the sentiment.  “Heh...were you worried about me?”

  
Noctis scoffed and shook his head, squeezing where Prompto’s hands weren’t hurt.  “Of course, you idiot.”

  
Prompto let him help him stand and leaned on him for support.  His legs felt like jelly from being stuck for so long (how long had it been?  Hours?  Days?).

  
Noctis held him tightly as he supported the majority of his weight, pulling him along as they trudged through the hall.  Propto vaguely remembered being dragged, half conscious, through the hall when he’d been brought in.

  
“Do you know where you’re going, Noct…?” Prompto mumbled.  “Yeah,” he replied, not looking at him.  “We have to find Ignis and Gladio.”

  
They rounded a corner through a dark, narrow corridor and came to a room with blue borders and decals.  “But first, let me look at your hands, okay?”

  
The room was chilly, but the beds were a welcome sight.  The door slid shut with a  _ shh _ behind them, and Prompto heard a soft  _ click _ as it shut completely.  Probably not locked, but the sound was comforting nonetheless.

  
Noctis set Prompto down on the bed before rummaging through what boxes and cabinets were left behind.  Eventually, all he could scrounge up were a box of bandages and peroxide.  It’d have to do for now.

  
Prompto looked down at his hands.  Blood crusted on them, mixed with grime and dirt.  His fingertips throbbed where his nails were missing, exposing the pink and squishy nail bed.  His knuckles were torn from where he’d punched imperials directly into the face of their helmets.  It’d hurt, but watching their heads snap to the side was worth it.  Down to his wrists were purple with bruising from the cuffs.  His elbows hurt, too, like a bruising ache, but he didn’t bother to check.  Everywhere hurt, now that he thought about it.  
  


Noctis knelt in front of him with a half empty bottle of peroxide and an open box of adhesive bandages.  He looked apologetic as he set down the box and opened the bottle.  “This is going to hurt, but I can’t have you getting an infection.”  Prompto almost chuckled at that.  “Already hurts like shit.  I trust you.”  Noctis took pause to look at him.  He nodded as he pulled Prompto’s hands to hover between them.  “Deep breath,” he said, so quiet that Prompto almost didn’t hear him.

  
The liquid felt so hot against his bare fingertips that it was cold.  He yanked his hands out of Noctis’, pulling them against his body and leaning over them, rocking back and forth as they stung fiercely, like someone had stuck a needle through each one.  He bit his lip hard enough to taste blood on his tongue, and squeezed his eyes shut as he whimpered quietly.

  
He let out a shaky breath of, “Fuck,” as the pain finally ebbed away.  Noctis gently pried his hands away from his body and put bandages over his fingers.  It wasn’t much, but it would make it more bearable.  “Let’s hang here for a bit, okay?  Get some rest.  We’re no good to Gladio and Ignis if we’re beat,” Noctis said, patting Prompto’s shoulder.

  
Sleeping in a proper bed sounded heavenly.

  
He was asleep before he hit the pillow.

 

* * *

 

Noctis was awake before him, assuming he’d slept at all.

  
Prompto sat up slowly, careful not to put too much pressure on his hands.  He scrubbed his face with the heels of his hands.  He felt something cold press against his head.  Looking up, he saw a wet can of soda.  Strawberry, he noted.  He took it carefully and, surprisingly, it felt good against his aching fingers.  At least it numbed it enough that it didn’t bother him.  Noctis sat on the bed across from him, cradling his own soda between his knees.  Grape, Prompto noted.

  
...Hm.

  
Prompto eyed the prince for a long moment, bouncing his knee as he rested his elbows on them.  He stared at the soda can in his own hands, a cute little character in the shape of a strawberry smiling up at him.  These were sold in vending machines and convenience stores in Insomnia; he and Noctis used to get them after school.  They were cheap, maybe about half of what a gil was worth.  Prompto let out a soft breath of a laugh.  “Hey, Noct.  You...you remember that trip we took in our third year?  The one to the botanical garden when it first opened.  We took the train ‘cause Iggy was sick and couldn’t drive us, remember?”

  
Noctis looked up at him through his dark lashes as he snapped open the soda can.  He pursed his lips in thought, leaning his head back and rolling his neck.  “Mmm, think so?  Refresh my memory.”

  
“We took the train.  But we’d had so many sodas before that, and the train made you sick.”  Prompto laughed.  “You puked all purple!  And you were so mad!  Said it was a waste of your favorite soda.”  Prompto laughed behind his hand, trying to hide how funny he’d found his friend’s distress.

  
Noctis scowled for a moment before he joined in the laughter.  “Yeah.  Can’t beat an old favorite, you know?”  He took a long drink of the grape soda.

  
Prompto immediately dropped his laugh, and his expression darkened.   _ Gotcha _ .

  
“You’re not Noctis,” he said simply.  His hands gripped his soda can tightly.  His heart was in his ears and his stomach did flips.  Suddenly, he felt incredibly vulnerable, and amazingly angry at the same time.

  
“Noctis” stopped laughing too.  They were silent for a long time.  Prompto wasn’t sure if either of them were going to speak, maybe they’d stay like this forever.

  
Then, “Noctis” cracked a giant, cheshire cat smile.  “Ha, guess you’d figure it out eventually, huh?”  Prompto scooted back on the dorm bed when the imposter stood up.  He wasn’t armed, and he wasn’t sure how much fighting he could do with whoever this was.  And if it was Ardyn, who knew what else he was hiding up his sleeve.

  
The imposter’s body began to morph and shift, until it was Ardyn slowly sauntering over to him.  “Tell me, what gave me away?”

  
Prompto glared at him, hating the stupid smirk on his face, and hating how he shook.  With anger or fear, he wasn’t sure.

  
“Noctis hates grape soda,” he spat.

  
Judging by the way his eyebrows shot up and the look of genuine surprise, maybe Ardyn was impressed that he’d been outsmarted.

  
Then he laughed; threw his head back and gave out a few good, heavy guffaws.

  
“Well done, my dear!”  He turned his back to Prompto, but Prompto didn’t relax.

  
Ardyn sighed and ushered in a few troopers.  They closed in on Prompto as he lept from the bed.  “Take him back to his cell.  And don’t make a mess.”

  
Prompto fought so heavily, it forced Ardyn to usher in three more soldiers to subdue him before they managed to drag him back to his cell.

 

* * *

 

  
If the hours had turned into days, Prompto wouldn’t know it.  It was dark in his cell almost all the time.  The play dates had grown not only longer, but more aggressive, after Prompto had beat Ardyn at his own game.

  
Apparently he’d hoped to lure Prompto into a trap of daemons.  Just for the shits, or to see if he’d die, Prompto didn’t know or care.  It hadn’t worked and Ardyn, without saying it, was _pissed_.   His body ached, shivering with the cold of the room.  The metal slab didn’t make it any better.  Ardyn had allowed him some time to sleep; it was a mercy Prompto wasn’t sure if he should be grateful for.  When he’d finally managed to fall asleep, it wasn’t for long.

  
The third time Noctis rescued him, he felt a twinge of anger.  The same trick wouldn’t work twice, Ardyn knew that.

  
But Iggy was there...and Gladio?

  
Could be soldiers sent to make it more believable.

  
They released him in his groggy state, and failed to catch him as he crumpled to the ground.

  
He let out a soft thank you, nonetheless.  
  


Even if it wasn’t them, he could pretend for just a little longer.

 

* * *

 

 

They took a break from running and fighting in one of the dorms.  It made Prompto uneasy, remembering the last time he’d been in one.   He’d kept his distance from the other three for the most part.  It made Prompto feel better when they questioned it; somehow it made them feel like the concerned friends he'd missed.

 

Gladio was keeping watch by the door, listening intently for anyone trying to come in.  It made Prompto feel safe.  Gladio was always so protective of his little retinue; it almost reminded Prompto of a behemoth.  Ignis was tending to Prompto’s wounds, new and old.  He was appalled when he felt the absence of nails, careful not to push on the exposed nail bed, and tried to rewrap them as best he could.  Noctis took a seat beside Prompto.  He looked exhausted.  Prompto wondered what he'd been through to get this far.

  
The prince bumped his shoulder with his own playfully.  “You're one hard son of a bitch to find, y’know that?”  They shared a laugh.  Ignis rubbed his thumb over the back of Prompto’s hand gently, while Gladio smiled from his post at the door.  It felt nice to fall into their comfortable camaraderie.

  
Later, Gladio had coaxed Ignis into a much needed nap, and he napped beside him so Prompto and Noctis could take watch.  The room was quiet, save for the ever present hum of the machinery.  The boys sat beside each other, Noctis standing against the wall while Prompto sat on the floor.  The two hadn't talked much since rescuing Prompto.  He wondered if it was because Noctis didn't want to ask, out of respect, or he didn't want to know.

  
Or if he already knew.

  
The silence was deafening.  Eventually, Prompto couldn’t take the itch of not talking.  He had to know.  “Hey, Noct.  You remember that trip we took in our winter break?  Third year?”

  
Noctis pondered it for a second, turning the ring on his finger a couple times before nodding affirmatively.  “Oh yeah, to the...garden?  Right?”

  
“Yeah.  That one.  You remember what happened?  You threw up all over the place!”  Prompto forced out a laugh.  If this was a trick, he’d know right now.

  
Noctis huffed and tapped him with his boot.  He sat down, cross legged beside Prompto.  “Don’t pretend like it was me, it was totally you that hurled.  Told you not to eat that sushi before we left.”  He flashed him a smile, seeming to have a fondness of the memory.   Prompto stared at it for a long time, basking in it.  This was Noctis.   _ His  _ Noctis.  He chuckled, then it turned into a real laugh, quietly so as not to wake Gladio and Ignis.  “Oh yeah, I forgot.  Just so used to you being the messy one, I guess.”  Noctis punched his shoulder lightly, hardly even a tap.   They settled in a more comfortable silence, warm and inviting, like when they were in high school and would just sit near each other.  Nesting, cuddling, whatever word was suitable.

  
Enjoying each other without a sound.

  
Prompto rested himself against Noctis, pressing against his side and laying his head on the prince’s shoulder, enjoying the feeling of Noctis returning the gesture atop his head.  He ran his fingers against Noctis’ own, switching between tracing patterns over his palm and holding his hand.  “I’m...really glad you came for me, Noct…” he mumbled.  At first, he wasn’t sure if Noctis heard it.

  
“Me too, Prom.”

  
Prompto smiled.  He was where he was supposed to be.  Safe, with his little family of four, and no more tricks.

**Author's Note:**

> something i was dicking around with and made because i like sad stuff i guess??
> 
> idk i like to suffer probably
> 
> talk to me or just join me on tumblr at hamuretu! i need some people to yell their ffxv ideas at me! D:


End file.
